“Indeed,” Pasha Hassan said, rising from his chair. “The original Timehunters were guardians of balance, sworn to mend the fabric of time torn by the Timebornes. But corruption seeped into their ranks, twisting their purpose. The darkness was never meant to harm their Timebornes. Yet power…” He paused, his gaze hardening. “Power corrupts even the noblest of intentions.”
He strode toward the towering bookcase lining the study, his fingers brushing along the spines of ancient tomes as though searching for a forgotten truth. At last, his hand stilled. He pressed a hidden mechanism, and with a soft click, the bookshelf swung open, revealing a chamber suffused with an ethereal glow.
He stepped inside and emerged moments later, holding two blades—one radiating sunlight, the other cloaked in the cool luminescence of moonlight.
“Here they are,” he said, his voice reverent.
My hands trembled as he placed the sun and moon daggers in my grasp. Their energy pulsed against my palms, alive and charged with ancient power.
“And as you know,” Pasha Hassan continued, his gaze locking onto mine with a gravity that chilled me, “I possess the knowledge to awaken them.” The weight of his words settled over the room like an oppressive shroud. He paused, letting the silence stretch as if daring me to absorb their significance fully.
“I am grateful that you and your wife survived Raul Costa’s masquerade ball and retrieved the sun dagger,” Pasha Hassan said. “Balthazar did us all a favor by eliminating most of the Timehunters at that party. Only a few survived—Raul and ten others.”
“Reyna...” I murmured, the name slipping from my lips like a plea.
“Reyna wanted to prove herself,” Pasha Hassan said, leaning forward in his chair. “She is more involved than you realize.”
The air in the room seemed to hum with tension as Pasha Hassan pressed on, unraveling the intricate web of events that had led to Marcellious’ capture and Reyna’s instrumental role in dismantling Raul’s regime.
“Marcellious’ capture wasn’t a betrayal by Costa,” Pasha Hassan said, his voice heavy with emotion. “It was all orchestrated by Mathias and Salvatore. Their ultimate goal was to dismantle your entire team, piece by piece.”
His voice cracked as he continued, the weight of his revelations bearing down on us.
“Reyna stayed longer than was safe,” he said, his eyes shadowed with grief. “She risked everything to save Marcellious and ensure Raul’s society fell. I know you and your wife have accused her of betrayal, of trapping you both, but that wasn’t her intent. I sent her to England with Osman because I trusted her to guide you back to me. Losing Osman was a tragedy I will never forgive myself for, but I couldn’t allow either of you to stay near Mathias and Alina any longer.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Amid the swirl of revelations, one thought crystallized—the answers I sought—about my role, purpose, and very identity—were within reach. Was I a darkness? What was my place in this vast, tangled web of alliances and betrayals? Perhaps, at last, I would discover the truth.
“It all makes sense now,” Olivia said softly, breaking the silence. “Why she saved Marcellious. He is her brother.”
Pasha Hassan nodded, his gaze distant as he perched on the edge of his ornate desk. His fingers traced absent patterns across the polished wood; his voice filled with the weight of secrets too long kept.
“Malik knew,” he said, his tone almost wistful. He glanced at the map pinned to the wall, its surface marked with the scars of battles fought and yet to come. “Your mother and Mathias are dangerous. Every move must be shrouded in secrecy, or they would have destroyed us before we could fight back.”
His eyes shifted to the sun and moon blades resting in my arms, their energy thrumming against my skin like a heartbeat.
“We are ahead of the game right now. You possess the blades,” he said as if to anchor me in the moment. “And I possess the knowledge that you seek.”
He had an undeniable magnetism, an enigma that drew me in, his words hanging in the air, tantalizing yet just out of reach.
“Forgive me, my son, Roman, for the trials and tests I put you through,” he continued, his voice softening, tinged with a regret that seemed to ripple through the space between us. “It pained me to watch you and your wife fight for your lives, but I was following orders from Lazarus. My love for you and your brother knows no bounds, and it hurts me deeply not to be part of your lives. I longed to teach you how to fight, ride, and hunt, but my duty always came first.”
The weight of his confession pressed against the room’s stillness, filling it with sorrow and longing. His words were an unspoken apology, a bridge across the years of absence and distance.
“Do you know why these blades are so important?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to echo in my very bones.
Olivia and I exchanged a glance, the gravity of the question pulling us into its orbit. Slowly, we shook our heads.
I turned to Olivia, who sat a few feet away, watching me with awe and quiet strength. She had been my guiding light through the darkness, helping me piece together the fragmented truths of my past and leading me to this very moment. Without her, I would still be lost.
Wordlessly, I extended the daggers to her, offering them with a small bow. She accepted them with a gentle smile, her fingers brushing against mine in the exchange, a spark of connection that grounded me. Then, I turned to my father—a man who had only existed in my imagination until now. Tears blurred my vision as I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace. It was a moment I had never dared to dream of, and now that it was here, I was utterly overcome.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with raw emotion. “For everything.”
For a fleeting moment, peace enveloped me, warm and comforting. But even as I held him close, the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to whisper of unfinished business, of looming dangers waiting just beyond the edge of this fragile reprieve.
This was far from over.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
